


Le Melithon Anuir

by evilwriter37



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, slight angst, terms of endearment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 04:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Bard likes it when Thranduil speaks to him in elvish.
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Comments: 6
Kudos: 128





	Le Melithon Anuir

“ _ Le melin _ ,” Thranduil whispered to Bard, fingers gingerly stroking through his hair. Bard didn’t know what it meant, but he liked it when Thranduil spoke in Elvish to him. It was a beautiful language, and he felt honored to hear it from someone close to him. 

_ “Le melithon anuir. _ ”

Bard smiled at Thranduil, put a hand to his face. They were laying in bed together, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Thranduil’s bed was large, more than big enough for two people, and he’d expressed how it had been empty save for him for so long, that he enjoyed Bard’s warmth beside him.

“What do you say to me when you speak Elvish?”

Thranduil exhaled through his nose, smiled lightly. “The proper name for the language is Sindarin,” he informed Bard. He leaned forward, kissed him gently on the lips. “And I’m telling you I love you, and that I will love you forever.”

“ _ Le melin _ ,” Bard repeated. “Is that ‘I love you’?”

“Yes, meleth nin.”

“And what’s that one?”

“My love.”

Bard smiled warmly, snuggling into Thranduil. “I like it when you speak Sindarin,” he admitted. “You have a lovely voice. Rich.”

Thranduil pressed his forehead to Bard’s, inhaled deeply, as if trying to ingrain his scent in his memory.

“And I like your accent,” Thranduil told Bard. “It’s different.”

Bard stroked Thranduil’s white hair. “ _ Meleth nin _ ,” he breathed. The words were new on his tongue, but also good.  _ My love.  _ That’s what Thranduil was to him.

“When you say you’ll love me forever,” Bard started, “Does that mean even after… I’m gone?”

“The love of elves is strong and lasting,” Thranduil told him. “Even as I love you, I still love my wife, though she has been gone a millenia.”

“That must… hurt,” Bard told him. He pressed a hand to Thranduil’s bare chest. “Like a wound to the heart.”

A tear glistened in one of Thranduil’s eyes. “It does.”

“Then why love?” Bard asked. He didn’t want to hurt Thranduil. He was well into his 40s, knew that in another few decades, unless illness or battle felled him, he would be leaving Thranduil alone with this love. 

“I tried not to,” Thranduil said. “I tried so hard not to. But you… something about you, drew me in.”

“And is that a good thing?”

“Yes,  _ mell nin. _ ”

“But what about… after?”

Thranduil sighed. “I will suffer, yes,” he told him. “But it will be worth it, to have your heart now, for as long as I can.” He also pressed a hand to Bard’s chest.

Bard smiled, but it was a sad one. Thinking of Thranduil suffering without him put an ache into his chest, but the fact that an immortal being such as this could love him also made him soar. Thranduil loved him, and he loved Thranduil.

“I love you,” Bard told him. “And I will forever.”

“ _ Le melin _ ,” Thranduil said. “ _ Le melithon anuir. _ ”


End file.
